


Stardust

by voidcatx (portraitoftheartist)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Existential Crisis, F/M, Fluff, Heart-to-Heart, Stargazing, Well... several... more like the entire HTLT album, inspired by a Car Seat Headrest song, is the author okay??? who knows..., just my usual tuesday, kind of, questioning your place in the universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portraitoftheartist/pseuds/voidcatx
Summary: Sleep does not come some nights when it gets loud inside your head. Pebbles thrown at your window feels something out of movies. Oikawa Tooru being the one to do feels unreal. So you do what everyone does in dreams (is this a dream?) and follow his lead.Spotify playlist for this mini series:)Semi Hiatus, chapter 3 is a psa + beginning of the actual chapter.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru & Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> uhh i dont like how i ended some things & most of reader's thoughts/worries are stuff i used to think so yea, talk about pouring your heart out. (did i originally designed it as a future chapter for Intrusion? yes, i am an idiot with no self control)
> 
> also Kimochi Warui (When? When? When? When? When? When? When?) by Car Seat Headrest sounded fitting while I proofread this so take it as a suggestion if you want. (the melody is v soft and fits the last 1/5 of it v well)
> 
> [Kimochi Warui (When? When? When? When? When? When? When?) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsZHyoKp2tA)

It’s late.

Too late to still be up.

Too late to be thinking like _this_.

Too late to be up, awake, vibrating with all these overwhelming thoughts filling your head, wanting to break free, scratching the inside of your skull like feral animals, _dying_ to get out.

It’s late and you keep lying down just like that. Hands clasped over your stomach, eyes locked onto the ceiling, trying not to think, keeping your mind blank like a newly bought sketchbook.

You lie like that for seconds feeling like hours and hours feeling like seconds.

You lie awake, the dim moon light entering your room lazily. All too familiar thoughts plaguing your mind, telling things you’ve known since childhood over and over and over until you grow numb to the noise.

_Tck._

You consider checking the time but you’re afraid it’ll still be too early for the new day to start.

_Tck._

Was that an actual sound or the newest trick of your mind?

_Tck._

They say _third time is the charm._ Third time also means it’s too much of a specific occurrence to be a coincidence. The noise seems to be coming from outside, something small hitting your window.

Irritation and curiosity taking over you at last, _not to mention_ boredom, you make way to the window and open it.

You see Oikawa Tooru _of all people_ waving with his phone at you, a little aggressively.

Walking back to your nightstand and picking up your phone, you receive a message.

>[Does your folks wake up early?]

>[Or check up on you first thing in the morning?]

 _[No. why?]_ Hitting the send button you wait, walking back there and looking at him again. Face lightened by the glow of his phone, you can make up his eyes and nose.

>[Wear something warm.]

>[And make that spicy tea thingy you like so much if you want.]

>[I’m waiting by the door.]

 _Weird_ is seeing Oikawa Tooru under your window at an hour no one else is awake. Him telling you to get dressed and come outside? That’s creepy and worrying.

[Why]

>[I’m doing you a favor out of the goodness of my heart for once.] You want to roll your eyes at that. Since when does he know what being good means? _Towards you_ especially.

>[No shady business, I promise.]

>[Trust me.]

As if knowing what went in your mind, these texts show up on your screen. You come to a halt.

Your relationship with Oikawa was never good. You would ignore one another on the good days and be utterly destructive and spiteful on the bad days. He never gave you a reason or made a gesture to earn your trust, you don’t even recall hearing those words from him much. They are reserved for Iwaizumi and the team only.

So why do you find yourself in a dilemma, as if there’s _something_ to choose, a decision to make? Because the logical thing for you to do, the _in-character_ thing for you to do, is to say _no_ , go back to bed and hope to fall asleep at some point. The usual set of action for you is to refuse whatever he has to offer and go back to your own thing.

But you’re done with the _logical_ and the _in-character_. So you send a quick _[I’ll be down in 5.]_ , make way to prepare something warm first and change your clothes as you wait for it to heat up. _A sweatshirt should be enough._

Being too lazy and out-of-it to function once in a while pays, because instead of having to brew the tea and wait for a long while, you just heat up the already brewed and stashed one and pour it to your thermos.

Silently opening the door and getting out, you see Oikawa leaning against the wall.

He walks away when he sees you, you follow without a word. Soon enough you’re met with a car. _Since_ when _he has a car?_

 _Wait, no_. Don’t ask, don’t wait for an answer. Don’t look at the stupid car, don’t examine it. It is a dream after all, _right_? What’s the point in observing things when you’ll forget about them first thing in the morning?

Following his lead, you get inside the passenger seat, hear him start the engine, watch his hand reach for the stereo. A low hum arise.

It sounds like he picked a channel on random, the music isn’t bad per se, the volume is down. So it doesn’t exactly bother you either. Getting comfortable in your seat and resting your head against the window, you watch the blur of images go by.

There is no moon tonight, the only source of light is the street lamps coming into view and leaving as fast. Houses, buildings, trees, everything belonging to the day pass by in a fog and smear of colors. Almost like a quick brush of oil paint. It’s calming in a _quiet before the thunderstorm_ kind of way.

As the road goes under the wheels, less and less houses come in to your view.

“Where to?”

Oikawa gives you a quick glance. He almost looks surprised to see you speak. _Did he just assume you’d stay quiet all night?_

“You’ll see.” His tone doesn’t match his face.

“What’s the meaning of it?”

“Consider it a _favor_.” This marks the end of your short lived conversation.

You don’t need to recognize the road he takes to understand he’s driving out of town _, out of Miyagi_. The _why_ of it keeps floating in your head, you can’t apply the ‘ _it’s a dream’_ tactic any more either, you are too awake for that, in both senses.

Turning your attention back on the sidelines, you let your mind wander off to meaningless assumptions.

A light behind the trees, you imagine a lonely night creature, lurking around to find his lost love.

You spot an animal you can’t identify and make up a story about an _once-successful_ maiden, falling fool to a wicked spell.

You look at the trees and imagine nature coming to life in humanoid form, mutating and taking its revenge on human race.

Hearing a ribbit nearby and you recall the time your mother read you _the Princess and the Frog_ years ago.

You turn left to look at Oikawa. Finding your phone inside your pocket and raising it in a _show-and-tell_ manner, you wait for him to take notice and turn off the stereo. You press play.

Satie’s _Once Upon A Time In Paris_ fills the air.

You note the relaxation in his shoulders. You let the melody take over your body as well.

Closing your eyes and holding your hands in the air, you can see the keys in front of you.

Hitting the keys one by one, reaching for the pedal, you can feel it flow through you. Head moving on its own, dancing with the melody, Gymnopedie no.1 as calm and serene as ever. Simple like a short quote on love from a poet.

It ends silently, Gnossienne no.3 enters with much more emotion.

It’s almost comical how many times you’ve played this exact piece but almost never listened to others playing. It sounds like you in _some ways_ , some tints and emphasis different than how you’d play but that’s all you got right now.

You don’t need to break out of the music’s hold or open your eyes to catch Oikawa’s gaze on you once in a while. You went through all this before on so many occasions. Be it on public transportation and a piece you connect with comes on, you can’t stop your fingers from trying to play it on air, making keys out of nitrogen and oxygen in the air. Your body starting to move on its own after a while. Strangers giving you funny looks all the while.

The notes gain meaning and heaviness, hanging in the air and making way for the following ones as fast.

When the B bemols come, you can feel a stinging feeling in your eyes.

Since _when_ does Gnossienne no.3 make you want to cry? Why _now_ of all times?

You don’t care, you don’t want the answers, you don’t want to understand or reach a new level of understanding within yourself. Just shutting yourself out completely and taking in all the music with a deep breathe, you lean back as far as you can into the seat.

Gnossienne no.4 starts and your hands no longer itch to play.

When Oikawa pulls up _at last_ , the music has long ended.

Getting off with your thermos in one hand, you look around.

Not a single building, a sign of life in sight. _Where the hell did he bring you?_

You can see his figure searching for something in the back seat, some shuffling reaches your ear. You look at the few and far between trees in the distance. It is a dead night. Not even wind, not even some comical tumbleweeds are in sight to add some motion. Time has stopped completely.

You don’t realize Oikawa’s signals for the second time that night, just as you didn’t hear him throwing pebbles at your window.

Noticing the loud **_thud,_** as him patting the hood of his car a little too late, only when he starts to get loud, you look back up. He’s sitting there, patting the space next to him, the gesture all too familiar.

Your mind wanders back to the moments you’d do the same, asking your cat to come sit with you, listen to you ramble, maybe purr for you, hear your sobs or meow at your antics. Tilting your hand with her head, bumping your legs with her tail. Those moments painted _golden_ , filtered with a gray film, already gone, leaving nothing but a sharp pain in your chest.

You climb and sit, careful not to have any physical contact with him.

“Why are we here?” you try one last time.

“I didn’t want to be alone.” He says. Nodding your head at that, you’re not exactly surprised. The way he always surrounds himself with people, no matter the proximity and bond he shares with them.

He answered a question, _maybe he can answer few more before I drive him to the limit_ , you think. “Why me?” This nags at your brain more than any other current question you have for him.

“It seemed fitting.”

“Why not Hajime or Makki, or even Mattsun?”

“Iwa-chan has come on little trips such as this with me before. I didn’t want to drag him tonight. Asking anyone else I’m close with didn’t sound like a good idea. And _frankly_? You seemed like you could use a break like this today.”

_Observant prick._

“So, what exactly? We share one cozy moment tonight and return to our daily selves of hating one another in the morning?” His silence is a _yes_ enough. “Sure, sounds good then.”

After the little conversation, you are back examining the surroundings, the comforting stillness in the air, the silence, the emptiness and the blackness of it all.

It gets boring after a while. Not wanting to disturb Oikawa further and at a loss of what else to do in the middle of nowhere, you look up at last.

_Oh._

You forget to breathe for a few seconds. And that doesn’t even seem to be a problem in your eyes.

 _Has he done this before? How long has he been going out at ungodly hours for_ this _?_

You knew Oikawa Tooru was obsessed with space and aliens, thanks to Iwaizumi, but you never expected it to be on a more serious, in-depth level. Not like _this_.

_Never like this._

Billions of stars hanging in the night sky, most millions of years old, blinking from a long gone past, probably dead in their current time.

A calm breeze washing over your wholly, reminding you just how _small you are_ , _your life is_ and how it is all _okay_ because in the big picture you’re all nothing but dust. Destined to be forgotten by history in few centuries, if not decades.

Seeing all these stars, colorful lights what you hope are planets, an arm of the Milky Way, flowing like a waterfall and you feel a sense of security you haven’t felt in a while.

There is something comforting about the night sky, the way it can show you your unimportance in the big picture, your place in all this. You feel whole with the universe. _You belong._

So you look up, and up and up. Stare at the sky, blink at the stars, smile at the constellations you spot and remember their stories, the gods and the myths, the heroes and the queens…

You look back at Oikawa then. As if remembering only now that he is there by your side.

Facing the sky in a manner just like yours, you can see the stars on his face. Shining on his hair, cheeks and in his eyes. _Almost like stardust._

He looks ethereal, unreachable, enchanting. And a little vulnerable. All that tension, layers of masks he puts on each day, all the fake smiles and empty look in his eyes are gone.

Raw and pure.

This is the truest of Oikawa you’ve ever seen.

The admiration can be read from his eyes. His face holding an emotion you’ve seen on him once or twice. Not intense like this, _never_ like this. You’ve seen the same look on him for _Iwaizumi_ but only for a second, when he’s sure no one is watching.

With the same eyes, he watches the starry night sky.

He looks like he belongs up there. Not in a “be an astronaut and go to space” but in a “ _should be there, amongst the stars, his memory up there, to be remembered by everyone gazing upon the starry night. Like a constellation, become a constellation, a legend and a story, and so much more, just like Orion and Andromeda.”_

This is the closest to Oikawa Tooru you’ve ever been. The thought gives you a shiver.

Seeming to notice that, he gives you a puzzled look and raises his right arm. You realize the blanket around his form then. He’s making an offer.

“Don’t worry, three people can fit in easily, it’s wide enough for the both of us.” When his face turned to you, it’s dark, no source of light to reflect on his skin.

You scoot over to him, under the blanket. The two of you refocus back on the scene above you.

Remembering the little mug inside your front pocket, you open the lid of your thermos and start pouring some tea, the steam leaving a little trail behind. You hold out the mug to Oikawa, he just looks at you, the confusion clear on his face.

_Why are you offering me the tea you brought for yourself?_

_What makes you think I’d trust you enough to taste something_ you made _?_

“We said tonight was our little secret, right? I can use the cap as a mug, don’t worry.”

Your words and clarification seems to convince him somewhat, holding the mug with both hands, he smells it before taking a sip.

Silence falls over again and it’s much nicer this time.

Not even the coldness can get to you or pull you out of the warm embrace you’re in. The warmth around your shoulders, more provided by the idea of the blanket than the blanket itself. Like a thin veil, separating the real world from your little bubble of escape.

It’s new moon, no reflecting lunar light to block your view of stars. Sitting under the tent of black, blue, white and red; it feels divine. Divine to live in the moment, to truly breathe, to witness something so enthralling and _forever_.

To stand by yourself, stripped bare of everything; your layers, titles, names and ticks, clothes and paints, to be a newborn again, to reborn again, all alone, in an endless room, empty and cold, filled with stars and gods, stories to tell and dreams to see.

To feel whole again, alone again, hopeless again but reach a self-realization again, to taste nectar and discover the secrets of the universe, converse with the long gone philosophers and waltz with supernovas.

_You’re not alone. Not completely._

Maybe left alone with your thoughts in this dead land and you know how _one can never have company in their own mind_ , forever trapped alone. Yet in that moment, _you’re not alone_. Moving your head to steal a glance at the boy next to you again, you understand it well. It all happens so fast.

“Isn’t it ironic? How as humans we use a word like ‘ _star_ ’ for untouchable celebrities, important people and such while in reality stars are nothing but these giant balls of plasma-“ gesturing a ball with your hands now, thermos sitting between your legs, “-with their ongoing chemical reactions, sputtering molecules of hydrogen and helium and all, until they come to an end with their current phase of life. If you can call that life.” You say all these with your eyes locked onto the stars, Oikawa’s locked on you. You keep going.

“Speaking of life, what is even life? Aren’t we just a bunch of organic components somehow managing to come together, build a system and gain conscious _somehow_? Just trying to survive until an outer force comes or our cells come off? Isn’t it _technically_ our cells living, in a way?”

“Aren’t we just piles of protein just walking around and doing things that make no sense but to us? Until we come to an end with our current phase of life? Doing what we see fit or fun or appropriate until it all ends.” It’s not a question any more. He doesn’t give you an answer.

“Aren’t we all children of the stars in a different point of view? All our molecules and elements coming from them. I mean, look at them. We see them blinking and smirking and smiling at us but for all we know they could’ve ended _long ago_. They could’ve become part of a new life for _all we know._ They break down and give birth to us, pieces of us; and in return we go back to them when we are gone. Despite being made of stardust, we live pretty shit lives huh?” You give him a lopsided smile, facing him as you say your last words.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time?” he replies.

“For far too long to pinpoint an exact date actually.” You almost say in a singsong voice. He frowns at that slightly.

“But I am right! _Right_? I mean, you’re a space nerd! You must know what I’m talking about.”

“Understanding and putting it into words in such a depressing way are two different things.”

Pouting at that, you look the opposite direction sharply. “Whatever, I know I am right.”

His gaze is still on you. “Is that what you’re like most of the time? I don’t get how Iwa-chan deals with you.” He must be shaking his head now.

“Iwa-chan can’t read minds last time I checked.” You deadpan.

His laugh fills the air at that. Light and lively, _carefree_ ; you doubt you’ve heard him laugh before. It sounds wonderful.

You wonder how things would’ve been between you and Oikawa, if the circumstances were different. If you never met Iwaizumi that day, would your paths still cross? Would you finish your Aoba Johsai years never meeting him?

Would you meet Oikawa on your own? Could you ever be friends, instead of dancing around one another and spitting out insults whenever you can? Would you like him in another world? Value his friendship, the person he is? Would the two of you have met before or become something more?

All these unanswered questions hanging in the air and you find yourself looking at him again.

His smile looks different now, _he_ looks different, _changed_. Almost breathtaking. Is that what Iwaizumi means by his ‘ _fake smiles_ ’?

A honest smile looks good on him.

You find yourself smiling back.

“Hey.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “If you still want to complain about the meaningless of life and all that, be my guest. I promise I won’t listen.”

Taken aback by his wording, you give him a confused look.

“Tonight doesn’t exist, remember?”

“… _Right_.” You decide to lean back and lie under the stars.

Feeling a tug at the blanket after a while, you see him placing the mug down next to the tire. You hand him your thermos as he regains his composure, he complies silently and leans back when he’s done.

All there is in the air is your faint breathing now. Never matching one another, sometimes loud, sometimes ghostly. There is no rhythm, no adjusting subconsciously. Completely independent.

You take a deep breath and start.

“It feels grey most of the time. Not in a ‘ _there’s never two sides, everything is grey, blah blah_.’ But more like a numbness of grey.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything, nothing to show or to indicate that he is listening. You continue talking.

“Like lacking all color and feeling in life, blocking all there is to see and enjoy and I am left with nothing but… _grey_.

Grey to the point of everything is filtered, there are no boundaries, it all feels the same, plays the same and I am afraid. I am afraid of hurting. Hurting myself, being hurt myself and hurting the ones around me. Not the ones I love, I don’t even know love. What _is_ love?” You turn to look at him.

“I tried thinking about it, reading about it, understanding it on a chemical and hormonal way. Consulted mathematics and never got an answer. It feels made up, a fairy tale to feel better, to attach ourselves to one another.

I fear I came across love and didn’t notice it, I fear I brushed it off for something else and now it’s too late.”

With each pause, it gets easier to speak, harder to talk. Finding the right words, using your vocal chords, moving your tongue, writing your sentences in your mind. You don’t feel the tears gathering around your eyes or going down your cheeks. You wait for the _robot_ title, to be called _heartless_ and how you have a rock in your chest. They never come.

“Do you really fear of hurting him?” There’s no doubt he is talking about Iwaizumi.

“I don’t know.”

“But you care for him.”

“I _don’t_ know.”

“Think before you answer.” He says then, voice stern.

“I think I care for him but I _fear_ I will ruin him.”

The unspoken ‘ _how so?_ ’ is in the air.

“I feel grey to the point of dust and decay. I fear everything I touch either drives away from me or decays. I don’t want to lose him. I think I care for him. But I don’t want to watch him stay by my side and crumble one by one.

 _I don’t want to go from grey to blue_.”

“Doesn’t he make you happy? I’ve seen genuine smiles on you when you’re with him. You almost light up when he enter a room or sits beside you.”

“What’s the point of happiness if it’s dependent on one person? It is not fair to either parties.”

He starts _tsk_ ing. “Too many _don’ts_ for that age. You’ll end up with wrinkles before your thirties.”

He stops prying after that.

The air begins to grow colder, a little breeze picks up.

The stars are as cold as ever, blinking diamonds in the sky.

You swear you see the arm of Milky Way coming into motion, flowing like a stream.

For what feels like an hour, it is quiescent. You decide to break it one last time.

“Speaking of stars, you and Iwaizumi are like neutron stars. Can be found alone or orbiting one another, chasing after each other, forever together and merged at last. Both stars on your own but as captivating when together.”

The hour taking its toll on you, your senses grow duller. You can’t hear his breathing without focusing, even the stars are getting blurry.

“Then you’re like a black dwarf.” Oikawa speaks up. “Because you feel unreal most of the time.”

You both fall back into silence. You don’t ask him if he meant it as a compliment and he doesn’t answer.

You don’t need to know which way he meant, in a way, you already know the response to that.

Tonight isn’t real. It’ll _cease to exist_ in a few hours and you let these rare moments sink in. Probably the closest you’ll ever be to Oikawa Tooru, closest see him like _this_. It almost feels familiar, like you’ve done this before, went on stargazing with him and opened your heart out to him. It feels like a dream, _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. You chuckle at your attempt of a joke lightly.

It is serene around the two of you and in your mind. A placidity you haven’t had without the help of a distraction in a long while.

“ _Thanks Tooru._ ”

His name falls out of your lips like you use it on the daily. Like the comforting shuffle of a worn out sweater as you put it on, the chirping of this family of birds living by your house for decades, the warm meow of your cat when you’re headed to bed. It sounds natural.

Scooting closer to him until your head rests on his chest. He just wraps his arm around you, pulling you further. Not a single word on your way of addressing him. And not a word from you on his way of holding you.

The moment will cease to exist in the morning, along with your confessions and the blinking lights of the stars. In a few hours it’ll no longer be real. So you decide to give it a shot at being close to him in all senses, share something the two of you will never have. Wrapping your arm around his torso, listening closely to his heart. Your head under his chin, his hand atop yours, you fall asleep until the sun comes.


	2. nebula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ A nebula (Latin for 'cloud' or 'fog'; pl. nebulae, nebulæ or nebulas) is an interstellar cloud of dust, hydrogen, helium and other ionized gases. “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone likes this follow up.   
> Also, some CSH songs that I think match the vibe of this chapter.
> 
> Beast Monster Thing (Love Isn't Love Enough)   
> I Want You to Know That I'm Awake/i Hope That You're Asleep   
> Hey, Space Cadet (Beast Monster Thing in Space)

The night ceases to exist. Just they like agreed.

Not a single good morning said when they wake up, still lying on the hood of the car. Not a single word is said on your part when he drops you off. Not a word leaves his mouth when he drives away.

It gets a bit too silent at school. Iwaizumi asking both of you, a little worried, if you got sick. Mattsun cracking a joke about how _the end is nigh_. You ignore them, Oikawa brushes the comments off. Yet they’re right, you are never this silent around one another. A few minutes later the two of you find something to argue over, entering your usual cycle of behavior.

Each day passes in a blur.

The boys still attend practice to teach the younger players as much as they can, to play together as long as they can. Savoring each serve, receive, pass and spike…

Besides their extra curriculum matches, comes the pressing issue of tests. And the unavoidable questions about college, decisions on college, all the excitement people have, and the sadness too.

Talking things over with your friends and getting some things a little clearer, you are all back to normal. As normal as you can be. As normal as _anything_ can be after _that_ _night_ honestly.

The nagging feeling of being left alone never leaves. The whispers of pity, the unwanted, the avoided and such. Everything passes in a blur that you cannot comprehend most days.

Each day feeling like two yet ending so quickly, never long enough to do the things you want to do.

Then again, _what do you want to do_?

One by one everyone makes plans. Plans of college, of future, of a new life. A new country, a new city, few plans of marriage; isn’t it a bit _early_? Ignoring the never ending chants of future and what waits ahead, you go with your mundane tasks.

Wake up, have breakfast, go to school. Attend classes, take tests, have lunch, more school work. Go home, sit alone idly, have dinner, go to bed.

Repeat.

Words start to fall on deaf ears after a while, subconsciously blocking anything you don’t want to talk about. A nod and a hum is enough, no one asks about your opinions.

It’s as normal as it can be, as usual as it can be. You’re more self-aware about a few things maybe, after a non-existent rant under the stars yet the course of action everyone takes never changes. Birds eat the same seed every day, people discuss the same things every day. Life is back to normal.

_Except it isn’t._

It hasn’t been for too long to pinpoint an exact time. Too long that it has become your normal perhaps. You try not to dwell on it too much, not wanting another restless night filled with heavy thoughts.

And maybe you’re lucky because you find Oikawa Tooru under your window another night. It only takes one pebble this time.

Not a text, not a word, you go down as he waits. He drives as you play your music. You both look up, in your own worlds.

He doesn’t try to start a conversation, something you’re grateful for. As time passes and the sky changes, you find yourself falling to sleep.

You don’t have any dreams that night and find yourself awake in his arms.

He drives you home in complete silence.

This repeats.

School days after your nonexistent nights are weird to say the least. They feel different. _You_ feel different.

No intrusive thoughts, not your brain attacking you, not blocking out anyone…

You can feel yourself see the bright lights and enjoy the world around you. Enjoying even the tiniest things happening, like a ladybug resting on a friend’s forehead completely catching them off guard. Tiny moments like polaroids, like sweet fruit flavored candy, small cakes on sticks; all waiting to be savored and enjoyed, to be seen and to be lived in. _And live, you do._

Yet the tranquility never stays too long. So you hold onto it as much as you can.

Next time Oikawa arrives, you’re already waiting for him.

The escape feels refreshing, something completely _yours_. Another polaroid you want to keep in your pocket forever.

Maybe he notices it or maybe he just enjoys the passive company. Because he keeps coming, at least twice a week, never on the same days, never regularly. Yet as if planning before-hand, you always know when he will come next. There’s a chance he just observes you and shows up on the days you most need perhaps. For some reason Oikawa Tooru knowing you as much as you do, _if not better_ , does not bother you in the slightest.

The first time the silence is interrupted is on him. The reason of it is absurd, if not in the slightest bit funny. You switch your classical music with Gorillaz that night. No particular reason needed, just feeling like it. And yet Oikawa almost loses his grip on the wheels when he hears the bass entrance of Feel Good Inc. He hits the breaks as he regains control.

“What _the hell_ is this supposed to be?” He sounds exhausted, you can’t help but notice.

“Music?”

“Yes I do know the song _Feel Good Inc_ , I’m not living in a cave.” He sounds exasperated at first but his voice softens after a huff. “It’s just completely opposite to what you’ve played this whole time.”

“I know, I just didn’t feel like _classicals_ tonight.”

Giving a nod your direction, he drives again. It’s a different spot when you arrive.

Higher than the previous location, you feel closer to the stars.

Shining brighter, sending their messages louder, you see Oikawa walking away from the car. Laying a blanket on the ground, placing a small pillow behind him, he sits down. Maybe he’s not the only one looking a change tonight.

You walk up to join him, knees touching one another, physical contact becoming more and more familiar with each brush, on each night.

As _El Mañana_ starts playing, you find yourself leaning back into his arms, the gesture growing on the both of you, as if natural. Each night spent with Oikawa, side by side, sometimes in completely silence, sometimes filled with low singalongs coming from either of you. Each different yet feeling the same in a way. Like entering a bakery as they take out newly baked bread, the smell of yeast filling the air and pulling you in.

It feels good to just _not exist_ for a couple of hours at night, just to sit back and escape the current worries darkening your mind.

“Any plans of where to go next?” Oikawa breaks the silence first, it’s going to be _one of these_ nights _._

 _“_ I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking. You can mutter about anything into the void here.” He sounds different when you’re both lying on the ground, when your head is close to his chest. A voice in your head suggests it’s not just the position you’re in that makes him sound different than during the day.

“ _Please_ , not tonight.”

“Fair enough. But you have to answer another question first.” You groan.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Smacking his arm and getting a little ‘ _yelp_ ’ from Oikawa, you wait for his question.

“If you could go to space, given the chance, would do agree to it?”

 _This_ , you could do. “Is it guaranteed I will arrive at a habitable planet?”

“No. It’ll be with the possibilities and conditions of today’s world only. So, would you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I, for one, would like to see the stars surrounding me completely, in 3d and all.”

“It’d be a nice escape. A path with endless opportunities and surprises.” He goes quiet after that. Waiting for a while, you reach out for the can you brought along. In that moment uner the bright lights, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

Oikawa gives you a side look when he hears the hiss of the tin can. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to drink?” He almost sounds like he cares. Almost.

“It’s one can, plus you’re here and for the last time I am not an alcoholic. Lay off my back for once.” Taking a sip and letting the coldness spread over to your neck, you let out a breath.

“I thought that’s exactly what I have been doing this whole time.” He says playfully, smile becoming a common occurrence each night by his side. Weighing your opinions for a second, you hold out the can to him.

“Here, if you want to.” He takes the can without saying a thing, coughs after taking a sip and gives it back. You’re sure he won’t be asking for it ever again.

“I’ve heard somewhere, the color of space was actually a dark tone of green. I’m not sure where though.”

“You’re joking, right? You can’t have alcohol tolerance _this_ low.”

“… _No_? What does it have to do with _my_ tolerance?”

“Because I can’t think of any other reason for that dumb statement.”

“Says _you_ , idiotkawa.” You elbow him slightly. He turns to face you fully, holding your unoccupied hand with both of his hands. Saying your name in a very serious tone, he looks at you dead in the eye.

“What, Tooru?”

“It is _space_. Empty. There is nothingness. No color.” He says the last two words with emphasis. As if by holding your hand, he keeps your eyes on him too. You want to look away, because he _is_ right but you don’t have it in you to break free of his starry eyes. “Therefore _black._ ” He finishes up.

“Alright Mr _Space Cadet_ , we get it _. I was just trying to make small talk._ ” You mumble to yourself. Not making any attempt to pull back your hand or to let go of your hand, you both stay like this. The only movements are of you leaning against him and taking a sip or two once in a while. The air feels buzzy after a while, as if scribbles one does in their notebook whenever they’re bored has come alive, filling the air and your head in the process.

You don’t remember falling asleep in his arms, _like any other night_.

You never do, it _just_ happens. One minute you lean against him, the feeling and the warmth still unfamiliar but weirdly pleasant. The next thing you know, you’re awaken by his soft voice or the sunlight peering through your lashes.

The day resets like that.

As if your usual worries are not enough, Oikawa Tooru adds a pile of more to them. Now mixed with guilt too. Whenever Hajime is close to you, wraps an arm around you or hugs you. No matter how comfortable you are with him, it all still feels weird, _strange_ even. It caught you off guard when he would hug you after winning a match, it still catches you off even when his hand brushes yours. So how come you can fall asleep so peacefully and _easily_ in the arms of someone you’re never on good terms with?

Maybe it’s the dumb jokes. Or the playful insults that lost all their spite. Or maybe it’s how soft he sounds in those crystal rare moments.

A brand new day starts. Another day of ignoring problems, living as if life will not change so drastically soon, going through the day as if you didn’t spend another night doing things you’d never normally do. You blame it on the time, when you’re too worked up on it. You can be uncharacteristically cheery at nights, or productive, thinking of things you can’t even remember in the day, imagining possibilities you can’t even dream of at night. So you blame it on the late hours that you feel closer to Oikawa Tooru, blame it on the late nights and the shiny stars that you open up to _him_ , of all people.

It develops so quietly that none of you notice it until Makki points it out one day. How you and the trash king have gotten so quiet nowadays, how the judging stares and knife like wordsd are replaced with looks of understatement and concerned nods. You just shrug and say you don’t have time for petty fights like this when the pressing matters of college approaches. He leaves it at that but his eyes show that he’s not buying it.

You don’t need him to, you just need him to stop _bringing it up_. Stop making it _real_ , _giving it life_.

Another night and you’re waiting by the door, dressed up thicker than the last time. The breeze is harsher but he arrives shortly.

It’s him to start another conversation using space as a topic, _unsurprisingly_.

“So what’s the coldest temperature in space?” he says casually, as though you’ve been talking for hours. Eager to get it right this time and not make a fool of yourself, you answer a bit too quickly, your excitement noticeable in your voice.

“Oh! I know this. What was it… -267 celcius _or something, right_? The perfect crystal form?...” The laugh he lets out at your rambling, facing the sky, is enough to shut you up and stop, to sit back and take in the entity that is Oikawa Tooru.

The form your thoughts about Oikawa seem to take over with each night spent by his side scare you. Since when you ever saw him _in that light_?

“I think you meant -273 Celcius. But no that’s not the answer.” In a manner like he already knows the curious expression you have on, he goes on: “It hasn’t been measured yet.” He turns to look at you, head titled, a small smile decorating his face.

You hit his bicep and he starts laughing again, louder, brimmed with _joy_. For a second, you’re sure you’ve seen a _supernova_.

Shaking your head a little, with an invisible smile on your face, you direct your gaze back on the _actual_ stars. Having looked up more constellations this time, you try to spot as many as you can, recall their stories and the myths, play the scenes in your mind, with your rules this time.

How small and important tragedy sounds in those stories, how vital they can be for catharsis, oh, just how easy things sound sometimes… You’d agree to fight a _Minotaur_ than to live this life perhaps. Physical injury is a guarantee, as long as your cells are young and active, there’s always healing, always getting _as good as new_. I wish that was the case mentally as well, without having to reboot yourself and your entire system, or the system around you. _If_ you can ever change the system around you. To blame _it_ is the more convenient option, maybe.

“Have you thought about the future, decided on anything yet?” Oikawa pulls you out of your chain of thoughts.

“I am thinking of it as of now, just not about _mine_.”

“Whose are you thinking about? No need to tire your pretty head about mine or Iwa-chan’s!” the cheeky tone of his ringing in the air.

“I’d never give you the time of the day, thank you very much!” _liar._ “And to answer your question, the usual. People of the past that may _have_ or _may not have_ existed. Gods, heroes and such, _et cetera_.” Twirling your hand in the air as listing off, you start to lose your focus on the sky. Turning to face him, you can see the solemn look on his face.

“I _mean_ it. Have you considered any fields yet? Any colleges you want to go and check out? _Anything_.” _Since_ when _does he care?_ Why _does he care? What’s that to_ him _, why is he so caring all of a sudden, when it all is coming to an end at an alarmingly fast pace?_

“I haven’t thought much of it.”

“ _Bullshit_.” He spats.

“Excuse me? _Who_ made you the expert of me?” So much for calm nonexistent nights, _I should’ve known we couldn’t go any longer without a fight._

“It doesn’t take an expert to know you overthink _everything_. But I _also_ happen to be an expert and I know when you say ‘ _haven’t thought much_ ’ it means ‘ _I’ve thought too much to the point of numbness and I’d like to ignore it altogether until it’s unavoidable.’_. Go on. Tell me I am wrong.” He is not and he knows it. He _always_ does.

“I’ve considered the fields my parents want to me major in, but they all seem… so out of reach. I suspect if I’m illiterate whenever I try to read up about them. So many options, all considered ‘ _respected’_ are out of the question I suppose.”

“What about something in fine arts? Maybe writing? That first night, you sounded… _touching_.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t listening?” Another smile appears on your face, smiling around him starting to get more and more of an instinct, a reflex. Something easy and subconscious.

“I wasn’t. Just like tonight.” You both look up, closing your senses under the influence of glistening stars.

“You have it easy.” You say after a while. Hearing the light shuffling noises, you know he’s turned to you again. You keep focusing your gaze on star after star, until the lights hurt your eyes.

“You have volleyball, will probably get a scholarship from many places, have a good career. Even if that’s not the case, you still know a shit ton about science and space so you can find something to do with engineering or space physics. While I sit here and just _exist_. Exist and do nothing else. _I don’t even know what I like_.”

You don’t realize how tense he gets, how his posture changes drastically. He doesn’t say anything. No comment, no criticism, no jokes, no advices, no insight from his side. Another rare Oikawa Tooru moment, of silence, which you’re glad to undergo.

That night ends in complete silence. Only sounds are of the engine and your music. You don’t hum once, he never grunts at the bad constriction of the road. Both tremendously careful to not shatter the fragile silence.

Another night to lock inside your mind box of “Imaginary Things” reaches its end like that. In silence, not so at ease unlike the previous times. This somehow makes the upcoming day easy to bear, already having a head start at feeling like _this_ , has its perks it seems.

Iwaizumi tries asking you a few times when you’re one by one, if you’re alright or need someone to talk. Thanking for the offer, you try to dismiss his worry and convince him you’re fine. He knows that’s not the case, he always knows what’s going on in your head better than anyone but he doesn’t press it, afraid of driving you away. Iwaizumi Hajime seems too good to be real most of the time.

“So what do we have tonight?” Oikawa asks, eyes never leaving the road.

“Hibiscus tea.” A hum comes from your right. “But it’s over brewed, you may not like it.”

“I can always try. It can’t be worse than that awful beer.”

“I thought ‘no judgement’ was a rule for these nightly trips.”

“We’re on our way so the night hasn’t begun. And that beer deserves all the judgement it gets. To hell with the rules.”

“I bet you don’t even know the different between different types of beer, _whatever_ ”

Smiling becomes natural at night, so is being able to talk without worries. To let out all your problems, feel the weight on your shoulders dropping off… It feels like floating in the air, the sky feels baby blue, illuminated by the sunlight. It feels like a good summer that will never come.

“I don’t want to because I am afraid of what will follow.” You blurt out suddenly. It’s funny how much one can think over what to say, weaving each word to use, putting them in the best order. Then you open your mouth and they all lose their magic.

Oikawa doesn’t say anything, most likely waiting for you to continue.

“When I talked that night, I mean. If I did it more and more often, I fear I will lose myself, or a part of myself. I don’t want to _dissociate_ to the point of _extinction_. I mean, I _do_ want that sometimes, but in a different way.

It’s almost funny how I know so little about myself yet live in fear of losing myself. Maybe I just want to discover myself before losing completely.” You pause to breathe, to listen. Listen to his breathing closely, to try and tell what he is thinking. You pause to focus on the dark parts of the sky. Imagine yourself getting pulled up, covered in dark matter, if that is even _possible_.

“If you want to elaborate…” Oikawa speaks at last. You don’t even hear him at first. He has gone quieter than usual.

Fiddling with your fingers and the empty cup you’re holding, your head falls down. _Gather your thoughts or not? Form sensible sentences or speak in incoherent blabbering?_ Doesn’t matter much, either way, no matter wat you do, you’re convinced it all will sound absurd.

“That night, describing it was easy. I just closed my eyes in my mind and imagined myself talking about someone else. Like a character you’re analyzing in a book, or someone you’re trying to make assumptions about to understand them better. _Kind of like you_ , when you break someone into pieces and examine each, then put it all back together in your mind to form them and gain a better perception of them.

That’s what I did, in some ways. Dissected that part of me to bits and pieces and talked in third person, so the words could flow effortlessly. If I kept doing I would only detach from myself completely and it would be too late to build a new me, because it wouldn’t even be me _because I don’t even know me!”_ You don’t realize cradling your head with both hands, wrapping your arms around your face or pulling knees to your chest. You don’t notice the way your voice hitches, or how it gets hitch pitched. The stinging tears at the edges of your eyes feel nothing, just like the fingers wiping them away.

The rest of the night is unknown to you. You don’t remember anything else happening. _Did I bury it down deep in my mind or fall asleep?_ No matter the answer, it doesn’t matter. You prefer not to remember.

The numbness gets worse in time, you notice that a little too late. Trapping yourself inside the gray fog for too long, you never asked Iwa what he was applying for, where he was going. All these nights spent with Oikawa, hours of rants and not even once you knew about his doubts regarding of volleyball. His plans about Argentina were worth celebrating, and celebrate you all did. You’ve never felt more selfish in your life.

That week he didn’t came over once, you didn’t expect him to. It was fine, accumulating back to loneliness was better in the longer term. A lot has happened that requires you to think over.

The days pass in a mixture of colors. You can picture the water when various watercolor brushes are dipped into the cup, all the colors lifting of and disappearing one by one.

Bright and warm colors for short lived happiness, small things that get to you, leaving just like sun light does when a cloud covers the sun suddenly. The cloud stays there for longer. Little moments that remind you you’re alive, like a jolt of electricity. The effect wearing off quickly.

The rest is usual, always tainted, blurred, covered, hidden behind a curtain.

Oikawa comes back another night. You feel like you’re on a deadline.

During the drive, you lean against the window and close your eyes, listening to the low voice of the radio. By the time you turn around a little, to rest on the car seat headrest, you’ve fallen asleep. Awoken by an unfamiliar warmth and luscious eyes, you yawn and leave the car. You must be still sleepy and more tired than you anticipated.

Lying down by his side, just like many other nights, you let yourself see the bright lights, enjoy the ones you cannot reach.

“I think I’ve found it.” You whisper to the stars.

“Found what?” They ask back, he inquires.

“Something I like.” You say matter-of-factly, as if it is that easy.

Taking in the silence as your que, you continue.

“I like the person I become when I am with you. It feels carefree. Talking is easier, the vastness of the sky is comforting. It shows how I am only human, how it’s okay just to worry sometimes. It feels good to look up and think ‘ _Hey all these humans, all these animals and plants, protists and mushrooms, everything alive and existing. All these living forms we are unaware of, out in the space… With too many to count out there, how can I ever be alone?_ ’ It puts me at ease, just like you do sometimes.”

“What about Iwa-chan?”

“It’s different.”

“We have all the time.”

“With him, I am the best of me, but it’s draining. It exhaust me and I think it drains his stamina mentally. It feels I am too dependent on him sometimes. I can’t keep doing this to him or to myself.

While with you, I can just _… be the fuck_ up I am and live like that. With you I can be many aspects of myself and not receive a single intervention. I can say whatever and you wouldn’t care to intervene. Or maybe you don’t do or say anything simply _because_ you care.” Giving yourself a moment to breathe and gather your thoughts, you pause.

“I don’t want to suck the life out of him until we are left with nothing but dread and dust. I need to grow and improve _for_ him, _if not for me_ , but in my own terms and _without_ him. I think I just like to exist with all these broken and unopened packages of myself, all scattered in a box but _somehow_ managing to be whole.”

“Careful not to dissect yourself further.”

“Don’t worry, these are just former lab results, nothing new.”

Wrapping his arm around your figure and pulling yourself to him, he just nods his head. It’s not like you can see, still a gesture to show he is listening. The night passes away with the close proximity. Pulling you to himself and resting your head on his chest starting to develop as a habit. In the hallways you never stand on Iwaizumi’s other side anymore, always between the two. Almost instinctive and noticed by the others.

You don’t fall a victim to Morpheus’s sand so quickly that night. Still awake and examining the sea above you, you are not startled when Oikawa wraps his other arm around you as well, your breath doesn’t hitch when plants a kiss to your forehead, you heart doesn’t skip a beat when his grip tightens a little. It feels so familiar, they all do. It makes no sense, it is nothing usual. Then why aren’t you surprised?

Needless to say, you don’t sleep that night.

“Astrophysics doesn’t sound so bad actually.”

“Where did that come from?” Iwaizumi asks. He’s walking you home today, insisting the two spend as much time together as you can before graduation comes.

You shrug at him. “It’s time I start thinking about what to do about my future. And space doesn’t sound like a bad idea to discover and learn more about.”

“Aren’t you thinking ahead now? It’s not like we will graduate in a day or two and end another chapter in our lives.”

“Ha ha, very funny Haji.” Shouldering him lightly, you both keep walking. Stopping once in a while to pet a stray you see, which usually ends up with Iwaizumi getting scratched. The sun is setting down, drowning the world in hues of orange and coral. You don’t want this moment come to an end.

It becomes another polaroid you keep hidden in your front pocket, above your heart.

Not hearing it for so long, you don’t grasp what’s happening at first. The second pebble is all the explanation you need.

It’s the last night before the graduation. Last night before you begin a new chapter, before you all enter a new adventure, all on your own merry, separate ways. It may be the last night to spend with a fog stuck your head or a night of good dreamless sleep but Oikawa seems to oppose it.

He drives to the exact place you first went with him, parks in the exact spot too. You wonder if he marked it somehow or if his memory is just _that_ good.

In a way, it’s a fitting way to end. With another non-existent night. Who am I even kidding at this point? These were the most _real_ nights _you’ve ever had_ in the past decade, it’d do no justice to brush them off with a snap.

Just like that first night, you both sit on the hood of the car, looking up to the night sky. So many has changed ever since. It has not even been _that long_. Time is a funny concept.

You have considered doing that by yourself few times, or with other people. Driving and stargazing one night, escaping civilization and all its expectations behind. Imagination was more than enough of an answer. It’d not feel the same without him, wouldn’t be as _welcoming_ , as _relaxing_ as it is with him. It’d be another sorrowful night spent in your room, with a new setting only. However, you still want to try and you will, when the time is right.

“So, how do you feel tonight?” Hints of something different is painted in his voice.

“Neutral, I suppose.”

“No, _I mean_ , which color you feel tonight.” He’s looking at you again. “Still grey?”

Staring at one of the stars for a while _, is it Vega?,_ you stay silent. “Not exactly.”

“It still has grey-ish tones but I think it is manifesting. Like a pale, pastel color, you know?”

“I think I see your point. Still, you have a weird way of explaining emotions through colors.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re _emotions_ , _subjective_ constructions of the self.” Maybe you shouldn’t have said that so harshly. The ‘ _hmph’_ coming from him justifies that thought.

“But if you really want to know, it’s a soft pink. Not the bright kind, _not lively like cotton candy_. Champagne can match the tone I think, but it’s not as _bubbly_ as it is either. Almost like a soft tone you can see on a rose petal, the type that seems dirty but adds contrast to the flower itself too.”

He nods his head once. You hope he leaves it at that and the rest of the night goes in silence. You know first-hand how much Oikawa Tooru loves to do against your wishes, tonight is no exception.

“Is that how you feel, about _these nights_? About _me_?”

Shrugging in response, you mumble a ‘ _I guess so._ ’

“It’s almost funny. How people use pink and red for affection and love but I don’t think these words cover what I truly feel, inside my bones. _Does that even make sense_? I hope it does, I _need_ it to make sense. I don’t know.”

“Still conflicted about love, I see.”

“I’ve given it a thought, you know. On you and I.” He raises a brow at that, another gesture you fail to see.

“That first night, especially. About how maybe we could be on different terms, were the circumstances different. Maybe I would be closer with you, something similar to what I share with Haji. Or perhaps we would talk a few times and never be friends, not even on speaking terms. Or maybe we could be _more_. It is effortless and harmless to think about _what-if_ s to never come. I must’ve been doing that more than I realized on these nights.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything at first. For a minute, you’re sure you’ve lost him, drove him away for good. Could it be that you spoke so lowly and he fell asleep? That could happen, _right_?

You try not to think about it, or worry about it. But it’s hard when the current source of your worries lies right next to you, breathes so placid and transparent.

“We could give it a try, if that’s what you want.”

You don’t hear him the first time. Because there is no way these are the words that leave his lips. You must’ve heard him wrong or zoned out. There is no other explanation.

You want to jolt up and yell ‘ _Are you making fun of me? Of my emotions?_ ’ You want to throw your hands into the air and scream, shriek, yell. _‘What is this? Luring me into a false sense of safety only to fuck with me on the last day, to get the last laugh and make it a grand thing? Were you pretending this whole time? Was it all just a lie? I know we said it would not exist but was it all just an act? Have I been living a lie this whole time?...’_

You don’t say any of these. Instead, you sit up, hands in your lap, staring at your hands. You know what he would say. Oikawa has been annoying as long as you’ve known him then again, he would never do something like this. ‘ _Why would I go and scheme some absurd plan like this? And to what end? To hurt you? You’re already doing that yourself, I am just trying to help for once!’_ You’ve been a great support lately, but how much of it did you mean?

Taking a deep breath to clear your head of the imaginary argument you just had in your mind, you turn to look at him. He looks so peaceful, stands out in the best way possible. Almost like a cut out figure, center of a collage.

“Why are you asking me this, Tooru? Why?” he rests one arm on the surface, leaning on it.

“Do you really need a reason?” Taking a look at you, he sighs.

“The same reason you and Iwa-chan became friends in the first place, the same reason I pick you up at nights, the same reason you keep coming along. The same reason we both seek company to fall asleep. The same reason we talk about space and things that make no sense when we could be addressing our real problems.”

 _He has a point._ He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He looks exhausted.

He is right. _Since when_ you’ve needed a _reason_ for everything you do? What is _living_ if you seek reason and logic behind _everything_? Since when living has been all about reason and purpose and not just surviving the day or enjoying the moment, suffering the pain and laughing under the sun? Since when a motive is required to act as you wish?

“Don’t you agree it is a little too late to ask that question?” You say at last.

“It was never right before, it never fit the moment as much as it does _now_.”

“Would it even work? You know what I think of ‘love’. Can one even care for someone before _caring for themselves_ first? Do you even see me in _that light_?

“We don’t have to do anything. That’s why I called it a ‘ _try’_.” He pulls you down with him as he talks.

“ _Tooru_ , you’ll be going to Argentina soon. There’s no _time_ for trying.”

“I know, I just want to purpose that out loud. But if you ever want to give it a go in the future, I can wait.” Before you can turn to face him, to object, he tightens his arm around you and continues.

“I am not offering to wait for _you_. I can simply wait until _someone_ comes into my life. But if you show up before that someone and would like to give it a try, I wouldn’t oppose to the idea.”

You consider his words for a while. It makes sense, sounds reasonable too. _What’s there to lose_?

Making yourself comfortable in his arms, you wish him a good night for the first time. Reaching to hold one of his hands, you let your mind drift off to sleep. Another kiss atop your head and a chin rested against your head are the last things you remember about that night.


	3. PSA + sneak peak?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read this it’s a psa about the fic/chapter also I added my beginning of this chapter at the end of the psa so yea,,,

First of all hello, the feedback this work received here has been great. Partly because despite being a fandom work, this is one of the writings of my own closest to me. All of readers thoughts, feelings and some of Oikawa’s are mine, just written in lighter tones.

also yea if you have that figured it out and have seen my other works here or on tumblr, you can easily spot a theme of comfort, emotional problems and such, and I guess depression too? I still don’t want to self diagnose but uh it’s getting harder to be in denial w some things every day.

I really love this story for so many reasons I can’t even begin to count so I want to do it justice too. In a way, by writing it I write my own catharsis and development too. But it doesn’t hold any meaning when I try to write a mental progress / improvement to a character when mine has been thrown off the window recently. (As sad as it sounds, progress I’ve developed over the years and didn’t even notice I’ve had until recently, which was gone few weeks after this self realization.)

i don’t want to get any sadder here so I just wanna add lastly before posting the beginning of new chapter that I do have a playlist for this series (I added it in the work summary) Also note that this beginning was raw and unedited so there are probably few typos and few words written in Turkish. And the song mentioned is Famous Prophets (Stars) by Car Seat Headrest (an indie/lo fi band I’ve mentioned in the notes of previous chapters too). I still have my doubts about this decision but I’ve been considering posting a PSA/going on a semi hiatus several times a day, for the last few days; so I know in the end I’ll be more at peace with this, even if I May regret it tomorrow morning.

There you go, I hope you like it, unedited sneak peak/beginning. (At least three more nights were supposed to come after this.)

One by one, it gets easier. Just like untangling your hair when you let it dry.  
Naturally, it is difficult at first, to take that first step.  
Addressing your problems begins right after no longer turning a blind eye to the inevitable that lies before your eyes. It’s not easy, though it feels like it. The line going logarithmic, small changes make for great difference. One by one, improvement takes more effort. You take it as a challenge and do not stop.  
College proves more fun than you expected. Doing some things different than high school, you find yourself enjoying more and more. Once you take that first step, you see that you’ve began exploring yourself, truly, for the first time.  
Just like a lover discovering a new part of their partner, like the first men to walk on the green fields they had never seen before, the first astronauts and cosmonauts seeing the world they live on from a brand new view. It is scary, like any new discovery is, yet the thrill of uncovering the unknown had the strong pull the Sun had on Icarus. There was no escape, fly or be defeated.  
As your plane lands in Argentina, 3 years since graduation, 3 years since Italy, you enjoy the bird view of the landscape. To see the clouds up close, few meters away from touch; the fairytale-like feeling it provides. These are the very things you enjoy at the beginning of each trip.  
To look up and see the clouds, take in the various shades of the sky and imagine – let your mind wander off and dream of worlds away.  
The few instances you find yourself thinking of the past, is it too early to call it that?, the old you feeling completely different some days, or awfully close in some ways. Yet the change is there, visible and solid. Heavy on your shoulders and in your chest.  
The hurricane of applauds nearby, you look to see a man holding a [swordfish??]. Ignoring everyone else around, he asks you to take a photograph and send his friends. Still today, you like to think he chose you for a reason that day, not just for the photograph. Spending the rest of your days in Italy with whom you know to as Nishinoya Yuu, was one of the wisest decision of your life. Soon enough realizing how close you two were, geographically and maybe emotionally too, hitting it off was easy. Finding something or someone to remind of home, even if the place never felt like ‘home’ really, is a breath of fresh air, even if the reason you left in the first place was to get the said fresh air.  
Walking past a beach now, on your way to the hotel, you make sure to drop by and enjoy the sea later. Later becomes nighttime, maybe it’s for the better.  
There was something different about watching the sky when the setting changed; the presence of a sea, a forest or even the roof of a building was [evident]. The sky was always the same, never changing, not completely. There was a hidden comfort in knowing you’d pass away and become one with something new, in the soil or in the space, by the time the sky had an evident change.  
Yet standing under the sky, a completely different one this time, with the endless ocean before you; it feels new, unknown, all these secrets waiting to be discovered, the stars waiting to be given a meaning, the galaxies far away waiting to be assumed for stars, a comet or two waiting for the perfect time to send you a flashing smile. How big of a difference changing the sphere can make.   
As the waves wash over the coast meekly, you consider coming back the next night with your swimsuit. Not for a midnight dip but for a midnight seeing. To look up and see new stories above your head, to look around and see their reflections hidden in the waves, the wind giving them motion and reason to come alive.  
Looking to your left, you see you’re not alone any more. Because there it is; all your fears, worries, smiles and successful memories, piling up in your old self, sitting by your side, in the same manner just like the first time. You consider apologizing for a second, for burying them alive, leaving them behind, for taking them off the same way a caterpillar does. Would that make you the butterfly? Have you reached that stage yet? And looking to your right, you hope to see a glimpse of your future self. It’s only a sillelouthe, still unborn, waiting to be developed, to be written. All the unlocked potential shining like diamonds, like stars in the sky.  
As you sit between two different versions of yourself; one a shadow, the other a veil, you decide to give yourself a treat and reach for your tape. As much as the calming waves of the night calm you down, it is unfamiliar and a stranger. Music never hurts like it once did, even the harsh words and hard truths help, to let you off, to let you feel and breathe.  
In the dead of the night, the song goes; “The ocean washed over your grave / The ocean washed open your grave.” And the ocean sings along to the lines, maybe not unleashing those emotions just yet, but [kurcalamak] it slowly. As the song reaches its end, you pack your things, not allowing your thoughts to think back to those first nights or the forgotten promises. It’s not the time for that just yet, or maybe you’re just afraid.


End file.
